


run don't hide

by calvinahobbes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Discussion of Bullying, Gen, M/M, Meeting old school friends, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:08:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19354837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calvinahobbes/pseuds/calvinahobbes
Summary: Dan has a run-in with a girl from school.





	run don't hide

**Author's Note:**

> This is set at some vague point in time long before the mukbang 2018, when Dan was talking about going to visit his family and avoiding talking to someone from his past.
> 
> Thank you, ahappyphil, for beta-work and amazing cheerleading and letting me steal your lines! <3

There’s a trick to walking around in public; head down, big long steps, neutral facial expression, no eye contact. He thinks he's been doing pretty well as he makes his way through Reading city centre, but he makes the mistake of standing still too long in front of a shop window, checking to see that the moisture hasn't caused too much havoc on his hair.

“Howell? Daniel Howell?” someone says behind him.

His first thought is that he has been spotted, so he's already pasting on his meeting-subscribers-smile, but it slides right off when he sees who it actually is.

“I thought it might be you!” she says, pitch rising and grin stretching her face. 

He feels his stomach plunging to his feet even as he only begins to recognise her. She's just some girl from school, Jules or Julie or something, but his entire body is already rioting.

She's standing there with a pram, next to another girl (young woman? mum??) who’s holding a small child by the hand. He doesn't recognize her, but she has a washed-out sullen look on her face.

“How are you?” Jules-or-Julie enthuses. “Are you still doing that “YouTube thing”?” She does actual air quotes, hands letting go of the pram to do so.

He croaks an affirmative. His consciousness is floating somewhere above him, looking down on them. He doesn't understand why she is so happy talking to him. He’s back in 6th form, hearing her happy voice ringing out as he’s lying on the floor again, as someone pours water down his shirt from the table behind him, as someone shouts--

“Well, I suppose it must pay the bills or you’d’ve given up by now, right?” She gives him a curious look as if she is actually hoping he will divulge his financial situation to her. “And still living in London? With that mate of yours?”

There's something aggressive about that phrase, and he can't tell from her tone whether it is intentional or oblivious, but his whole being protests at Phil described in such dismissive terms. 

“My mate Phil, yeah,” he says.

She looks at him funny, clearly expecting him to take her prompt and not knowing what to do when he doesn't. She rallies, though. “It's not like you're updating us a lot on Facebook, now is it?” She sounds like his grandma’s friends as she says this, tone entirely condescending. “Speaking of! You haven't RSVP’d to our little get together on the 14th. But if you're still in town you should definitely come! It's at Marcus’s house.”

He stares at her. She honestly doesn't seem to be doing any of it on purpose. 

“He’s dating Belinda Cartwright now, can you believe?” She pauses for dramatic effect and is once again disappointed with his lack of response. 

She stares at him and he stares back mutely. 

Then her eyes flicker sideways, and she resets her shoulders. “Well, I suppose a lot of things have changed already,” she says softly and looks down into her pram, a silly expression on her face now. 

Dan absolutely refuses. He will not do it. He will not stand here and pretend that they were mates in school, that he cares one whit about her progeny, that she thinks for even one second he might consider going voluntarily to Marcus’s place for a fucking get together. 

“I have to go,” he says, and then he turns around and leaves. He doesn't even stay long enough to actually say goodbye. He just walks away, leaving her to call out her increasingly desperate formalities behind him.

His fingers are shaking as he pulls out his phone. His heart is pounding. He texts his therapist, asking her for her next available time slot. As soon as it is sent he feels better, knowing that he won't feel this way after talking to her. 

He doesn't put his phone away, thumb hovering instead over the dark blue icon on the screen. He taps into settings and clicks “delete”, and Facebook immediately inundates him with photos of his grandma. “Do you really want to leave?” it asks. Resentfully he closes the app and slips the phone into his pocket. He is suddenly consumed with anger, a white-hot rage that he cannot possibly take back to his family. He sets out on a long walk.

*

“Why were you angry, do you think?” his therapist asks him.

He stares at her. “I don’t know. I thought _you_ would tell _me_ ,” he jokes weakly.

She looks briefly down on her notes. “I would if I thought you didn't already know.” 

He shrugs in acknowledgment of her fair point. “She was just standing there, pretending everything was fine. Pretending she thought I would want to reminisce about school. As if she didn't know what it was like for me. As if she wasn't right there in the room hundreds of times when it happened and never said anything.”

“Did you feel betrayed by her?”

“Yes! The least she could do was fucking apologize!”

She just nods calmly at his outburst. “I understand that."

“Why, though? Why can't anyone acknowledge that what they did was such total shit?”

“Because in order for them to live with themselves, they must not believe in their own complicity. They must pretend what was done to you was within the norm, all in good fun.” 

He sits with those words for a while and she lets him. Then she gently prompts, “Are you still angry?”

He blinks his eyes slowly, sinking back into the chair. “I’m tired.”

“Session’s almost over,” she says soothingly. “But I want you to think about what you will do with this knowledge, that you will probably never get satisfaction from any of your old schoolmates, even if you confronted them."

She lets him gather his whirring thoughts. “I can’t forgive them.” He looks at her, deeply afraid that she will tell him it would be better for him if he could. 

Instead she says, "We can’t wait for an apology we’ll never get to heal us. We have to heal ourselves, separated from those who hurt us." 

He stares at the worn red fabric on the arm of her chair. 

“What do you think you’ll do next time you're in Reading, if you meet someone from your past?” she asks quietly.

“I don't know, dive behind a dumpster?” He looks at her because he knows she’ll probably say something disapproving about confronting his fears.

“Good,” she says and surprises him. “A bit dramatic perhaps, but sure. You're taking steps to remove yourself from a hurtful situation, to avoid bringing up painful memories, and that's fine. You've identified your feelings and what you want, and you’ll be acting to protect yourself from unnecessary negative emotions. Absolutely dive behind a dumpster.”

He lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. He feels a bit lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading. [Like/Reblog on tumblr.](https://calvinahobbes.tumblr.com/post/185842846460)


End file.
